Every time I opened my mouth to sing to myself, I thought it sounded ten times worse than nails on a chalkboard or the sound of a kitten being stepped on. It felt like the high pitched screech of the chalkboard and the kitten’s furious and painful yelp melded into one single sound which emanated from my throat. I had sung in front of people only once and that was for an Independence Day party in which we were taking turns singing karaoke. One minor difference though: the party was in an empty theater that my friends and I had been working at for the majority of the summer. That meant that it wasn’t just a karaoke machine we were singing with… we were singing with an actual microphone with the music playing through the professional sound system of the theater. I can’t even imagine how I was able to get the courage to go up there and sing “She Will Be Loved” in front of all of the people whose opinions on my voice I feared most. I didn’t want to be seen as the friend with a voice that sounds like a metaphorical train wreck. Surprisingly, they liked it a lot. My boss, or technical director for those of you who are familiar with the jobs in a theater company, who was an absolutely brilliant actor, singer, and dancer told me that I sang really well, but I just needed to be a little louder. Wait a second… Nobody’s ears are bleeding… Maybe I can sing if I keep practicing… I thought to myself throughout the rest of the party.
For around a year and a half, I would sing in my bed with my headphones on before going to sleep, sometimes for hours on end, to get better. Soon, my voice was strong enough to sing along with musicals like Rent, Ragtime, The Last Five Years, and Phantom of the Opera. I was able to belt, in whatever amateur way, songs from Daughtry, Maroon 5, and, I’ll admit, N’Sync and Backstreet Boys. I felt that I was even able to sing along with the dark voice of Hyde from the musical Jekyll and Hyde. Though I impressed myself with the fact that I was, somehow, able to sing these songs, my stage fright was still with me and, if anything, stronger than it was before. I eventually grew a little bit out of it only when singing with my friends in a car when the music is blasting, therefore preventing my voice from reaching their ears.
Then I met him… Will… A boy whose charm, caring attitude, adorable smile, attractive body, and similar interests I almost instantly became emotionally attatched to. He made me feel absolutely perfect no matter what depressed, emo thing I would say about myself. For some reason… while we were on the phone… I sang the second half of “Hey There, Delilah” from the Plain White Tees to him and he said that my voice was the most beautiful and sexy that he had ever heard. Now, I sing whenever I can because every time I now open my mouth to sing, I think of him and how perfect he makes me feel. There is a quote that says, “If you throw your voice into an empty space it echoes to the ones you love.”